


Absolution

by JupiterDelphinus



Series: Murder Wives [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Femslash, Hannibal - Freeform, murder mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterDelphinus/pseuds/JupiterDelphinus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of Mason Verger doesn’t feel like a sacrifice at all; in fact it feels an awful lot like absolution. And kneeling on the floor, his dead body haphazardly sprawled between them, Margot Verger, drenched in water, looks like the absolution Alana was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

The death of Mason Verger doesn’t feel like a sacrifice at all; in fact it feels an awful lot like absolution. And kneeling on the floor, his dead body haphazardly sprawled between them, Margot Verger, drenched in water, looks like the absolution Alana was looking for. Alana thought it would be bloody, that that heavy thing would rear its head and see Margot drenched in red and feed off of the wickedness, the ugliness, the red. But Margot is not drenched in blood, she is drenched in water, and the clear, clean image of her makes Alana think that maybe there never needed to be blood, that maybe not even murder could stain Margot Verger.

It makes sense, Alana thinks, breathing heavy and staring at Margot, that the death of Mason would wash Margot clean of all things that were the past. She did not think, however, that the washing would be in water. But as she sits there, staring at Alana, at the thing they’ve done together, Margot doesn’t look like the demons Alana is so familiar with. She looks like an angel. An angel of death and she is so, so beautiful and tragic and broken but now, with Mason dead, she looks more whole than Alana has ever seen her.

Alana long ago gave up the hatred that came with losing Margot’s game. Instead, she took up a new game with Margot, and the two of them now knelt, the evidence of winning, their spoils, dead at their knees and safely tucked away in a vial in a pocket of Alana’s coat. Margot’s laugh after the initial shock is infectious, as her moods always tend to be, and Alana laughs with her. Again, they are on equal footing. Alana would never say she loves Margot, but she does have a genuine sense of affection. And she knows she’ll have to come to terms with carrying Mason’s baby, but she doesn’t really think of it that way. She thinks of it as her reward. She lost to Margot, but they, together, won against Mason, and the baby that will result will be a Verger baby. Margot’s Verger baby and it will bind the two of them together. Bound, not in love, but by winning a game when they two have lost so many alone. Alana thinks perhaps she could have never won alone, but Margot makes a very good team player.

Alana doesn’t think about Hannibal, or Will, or Abigail, or how everything she seems to be going through with Margot almost directly parallels that in some sick, twisted way that perhaps Hannibal had seen coming all along. Nor does she think about how she knows Hannibal and Will love each other, in their own way; that is a parallel she will never think of. No; instead she kisses Margot, soaking wet and adrenaline pumping from finally killing Mason and the water on her lips tastes like an antidote to that sick poisonous thing in Alana’s chest. But the sick thing still kisses her over a dead body, and Margot is kissing back, smiling, grasping at Alana like she is finally free to have her the way she wants, as though she had been bound by invisible chains, cuffed and collared like a dog, like one of Mason’s pigs, and perhaps she had been. Alana never thought too hard about Margot’s mental state beyond that of a broken, wounded woman. She seemed easy, not too complicated, but not boring as she first had thought. The extent of her binding had escaped Alana until this moment, with Margot grasping at her like she had come up for air for the first time in years, for the first time in her life.

She is seeing Margot for the first time and quite likes the view. Margot is fierce, and harsh around the edges, not at all that soft thing she had been when first presented to Alana. Murder suits her. The murder of Mason suits her most of all, and as Alana pulls away because they have to leave, as much as her ink black thing would like to have Margot in this water next to Mason’s body, Margot looks at her like she knows exactly what every black thought in Alana’s mind has been this whole time, and forgives them. Or, maybe not forgives, as forgiveness implies a certain quality of wrongness, but accepts them, and sees nothing wrong with them at all. Her cheeks are pink flushed and her hair is a mess, the water and her clothes cling to her and Alana wants her violently, and Margot knows, simply pulling her to her feet to find someplace else, someplace better.

Alana thinks perhaps that’s exactly where the two of them are headed- someplace better. Because Margot knows; and if she hadn’t, if she had been that naïve simple picture book girl Alana first thought of her, it would crumble to ash and dust and dissolve in the water they are drenched in. Margot, quietly and without warranting, without Alana even realizing, knows the woman she finds in her bed. She knows Alana, and as they drive away from the Verger estate- two ‘very lucky survivors’ of Hannibal’s rampage- it is then that Alana realizes that Margot knows her. She hadn’t made herself available, or easy to read. She hadn’t been open or honest or caring but for some reason, Margot can read her like she is the picture book, and Margot is the Alighieri. She loves feeling so simple, so understood, and she hopes one day to understand Margot the same way. 

She thinks, perhaps, the baby will help. It will open Margot up, the one thing she has truly wanted. She has wanted Alana, continues to want Alana, but there is something in that child-to-be that Alana will never make up for. Margot is a mother at heart, determined and destined to do right where generations upon generations of Vergers have done wrong. The determination and fierceness with which she wants a child is not narrowed down to the money. Alana realizes she wants to start over, to do it right, to love right, to care right, to come back from all this devastation and be better. She wants what Mason stole from her with what she herself has stolen from him. Alana thinks it’s just divine.

Margot drives them to a very posh hotel where she doesn’t have to ask for a room key for the clerk at the front desk to give it to her, nor do they question why the two of them are wet. Alana wonders how many women she’s taken here, and wonders how many women have seen Margot’s bed back at the estate. Something tells her she’s the only one who has seen Margot in her natural habitat, and she feels her chest swell with something like pride and something like smugness and something wicked, and she has to remind herself that she would never say she loves Margot. The elevator goes up and up and Alana likes it, because that’s the way that she and Margot are headed. Alana will bear a Verger heir, and the three of them, a twisted, perfect little family unit, will be swimming in money and affection. Not love, not for Margot, perhaps never, but affection, and the two of them will love the child and that will be enough. 

The suite is huge, with a view that extends for eternity as if Alana and Margot were Gods, looking out over their pitiful human realm and for this moment, Alana feels like they are. They have won, Hannibal is gone, Mason is gone, Will is safe on a promise that won’t be broken, and they will have a baby. Alana stares out the window, and can feel Margot staring at her back. Margot, in that deep, intentional voice says, “Remind me again, how babies are made,” and Alana smiles because it’s a bad line, but the only line that seems appropriate. 

She takes the vial out of her pocket and sets it on the nightstand, determined that their victory be in plain view when she has Margot. The clothes on her back come off with difficulty, and water clings to her skin as she approaches Margot, who still stands by the door. She begins to lick the droplets off like she is dying of thirst, and maybe she has been, in her own way. She kneels for Alana, who grabs her hair and enjoys the view as Margot makes sure every last drop of water on her legs is replaced with the warmth of her tongue. She doesn’t look at Alana when she tastes her, her arms squaring themselves on Alana’s lower back and Alana thinks that her knees must be bruising as she gets her pleasure. Alana thinks Margot is very much aware how her pleasure at Margot’s pain is so immensely satisfying to who she is now, and as beautiful Margot makes sure she gets exactly what she wants, the thoughts flee her for that pleasure, and that dark satisfaction. 

She comes loudly for the first time since she began this affair, and curls over Margot’s head, tip-toed and one hand on the door to keep herself standing. After Alana recovers, Margot lets her rip her clothes off as much as she can. They’ll be ruined, but they were anyway because of the water, and Alana feels strong for the first time in a long time, and possessive of Margot as she always had. Margot lets Alana take her against the door, which is new. In fact, Margot on her knees while Alana stood was new as well. They’ve always been in a bed, and Alana finds it indicative of their new-found freedom. It isn’t rough, though, as Alana had thought she’d be. With Margot bare in front of her, murder on her hands and Alana on her lips, she finds herself being soft, gentle, and passionate. She does not, however, love Margot. She doesn’t know if she can, anymore, but when Margot closes her eyes and grips the back of Alana’s neck in ecstasy, she wonders why not. 

They finally lay on the bed, but they don’t touch, not yet; that will come later. For now they look at each other, and Alana again thinks of permanence. She often thinks of Margot and permanence now, not so fleeting as the thought once had been. Her and Margot and the baby. Permanence. She wonders what Margot thinks of as the sun sets bright and heavy, flooding the room in red. Alana thinks Margot looks much better with the clear water soaking her skin than with the red sun bleeding on her. She reminds herself to have Margot in the shower, in the Jacuzzi tub that came with the room, on the lounger, on the kitchen counter, against the wall made entirely of windows, everywhere that had seemed so closed off to her before now spreading wide open like the sky splitting for them to walk through the universe together. They are free, they have freed themselves and the future is looking quite rich. 

But Alana reminds herself again, she would not say she loves Margot Verger.


End file.
